CSi: IN03: The Art of Going Insane
by A Rhea King
Summary: His imaginary friend is slowly whittling away Nick's sanity. **Added a new first chapter, but the rest is the same**
1. Chapter 1

CSI: Crime Scene Investigators  
The Art of Going Insane  
By A. Rhea King

_Chapter 1_

Nick surprised everyone when he finally came around with full cognitive and mechanical abilities and was his old, mellow, easy-going self. Well, maybe not entirely himself. He became ambidextrous mostly because his right arm was broken. He sometimes said or wrote words and people's names backwards. And the nurses reported he was talking to himself, something no one that knew him had ever seen him do.

He was missing some long-term memories.

The details of Nigel Crane stalking him were sketchy. The twenty-four hours he spent buried alive were, to him, just random scenes of a horror movie. No one tried to convince him otherwise; they all agreed that losing those memories were probably best for him. A good portion of his childhood was gone, including why he had such a profound hatred of clowns.

His education – or most of it – was intact, but memories from high school and college were scattered – a brief moment here, a person's face but no name there, a faceless name here. Of all the girls he'd ever dated, only two remained; the rest had disappeared into a black abyss.

The DA was relieved when Nick had complete recall of what had happened in the tunnels. At least Daniel and Shania wouldn't continue murdering. But it was those memories that made him distrustful of people he didn't know. It took his frat brother's three days to convince Nick he knew them. He remembered his sister's and brother's names, but their faces were strangers when they came to visit the first couple of times. He didn't believe them until his parents arrived with a photo album and proved these now-strangers were his siblings.

There was one memory, however, that he had full recall of, but was letting everyone think he'd forgotten.

"Warrick's dead?" Nick asked Grissom for the fourth time.

Nick lay on his side, staring wide-eyed at Grissom. Everyone else had to go home or back to work, so Grissom had flown in four days ago to continue helping Nick reconnect with his past. Unlike everyone else, he didn't feel he should shield Nick from anything. Nick appreciated that, especially now. He wasn't admitting to anyone that he remembered seeing Warrick dead in Grissom's arms, that remembered the funeral, that he knew exactly where his friend was buried, and recalled how very, very close he'd come to killing the ex-Under Sheriff. Those memories felt wrong and right now he needed Grissom's confirmation that Warrick was dead. Perhaps if he had that, then the demon that was haunting him would go away.

Grissom nodded.

"When… How? How did he die?"

"The undersheriff shot him to death after he'd been arrested. Do you remember him being arrested?"

Nick looked away from Grissom to a chair in the corner. Grissom looked there too, then back at Nick.

"You keep looking over there, Nick. Why?"

Nick looked up at him.

"What?"

"Why do you keep looking at the chair over there?"

Grissom pointed at the chair. Nick glanced at it, quickly looking away.

"Nothing. I'm just thinking."

Grissom smiled. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Again."

Nick nodded. He closed his eyes, shaking his head just slightly.

"Why won't you leave?" escaped in a whisper, but Nick couldn't take it back once it had been said. He held his breath, waiting to see what Grissom would do with it.

Grissom didn't appear offended or question it. He stood, patting Nick's good forearm. "We've been working for hours. You're probably tired, aren't you?"

Nick nodded.

"Okay. I'll go. I'll come back tonight. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

Nick shook his head. He'd narrowly escaped Grissom finding out the truth he was hiding from everyone.

"Are you sure? The food's good here, but…"

Nick smiled, looking at him. "A real cheeseburger would be nice. With onions I can see."

Grissom nodded. "Done. I'll be back in time for dinner."

Nick nodded. Grissom stood up, grabbed his jacket off the chair in the corner. Nick listened to him leave, waited to make sure he was really alone. Then his eyes drifted to the chair where Warrick sat, grinning.

"Red rover, red rover. Send Nick's memories right over," Warrick joked.

Nick closed his eyes as hot tears of shame welled up. He whispered, "You need to go away."

"You're not ready to let that happen. I'm in for the duration."

His deepest, most guarded fear was coming true. He had an uncle, one that was only whispered about, who was victim of a genetic disease passed down through the paternal side of his family, one that had been in the family as long as anyone could remember. It claimed someone every generation. His father's brother had been their generation's victim. And now Nick was his generation's victim. How long could he last before he couldn't hide his insanity anymore? How long before, like his uncle, he began drinking heavily, cutting himself, driving his car off the road, trying to suffocate or drown himself, all in attempt to silence the voice in his head?

"You're being a drama queen, Nicky. You aren't crazy. Just a little off kilter," Warrick told him. "We won't go there."

Nick cried harder, covering his ears with his hands. How long before this demon drove him to all of this? Just like his uncle's dead wife had.

#

Nick sat in the conference room, watching people outside pass by. Many of them flashed him a smile or gave him a wave. He returned it. He felt comfortable. He was glad to be back in the building.

"Has Tori been working out? Her legs look nice."

Nick let his eyes slide to the side, focusing on the hallucination of Warrick across the table. He was watching the people too. Until Nick's eyes stopped on him. Then he grinned at his human partner.

"Go away," Nick whispered. "I have to get through this or I'm not going to have a job!"

Warrick leaned on the table. "So then make me."

Before Nick could answer the door opened. He turned his head, watching Catherine enter. Nick stood.

"Ready?" she asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"You'll be fine, Nick. It's just twenty minutes and she's just making sure all the gears are working up there?" Catherine laid a gentle hand on Nick's head.

There was a moment of silence. Nick could see she was taken back to some memory that made her eyes water.

"Say something!" Warrick ordered, appearing next to Nick.

"We should go. The sooner I convince her, the sooner I get back to work."

Catherine smiled, dropping her hand. "Yep. She's in interview room B. Can I walk with you? Do you mind?"

"I don't mind, but I'm not holding your hand."

Catherine laughed. She walked to the door, opening it for him. "Back one day and already you're being a pain."

Nick grinned, leaving the room. In the hall he kept passing Warrick, but hallucinations didn't follow normal rules of gravity or time and space. He moved wherever it was the most inconvenient for Nick. That thought made Nick suddenly freeze outside the interview room. It was three minutes before Catherine said something, but it felt like hours.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Nick shook the fear, smiling. "Sorry. I got lost in a thought for minute there."

Catherine patted his shoulder. "You'll do fine. We'll go have lunch when you're done. Come find me."

Nick watched her walk away. He looked through the window in the door at the psychologist sitting at the table. And Warrick standing by it, waving him in. Nick swallowed. He entered the room on a prayer he'd be able to ignore Warrick long enough to pass his psych evaluation.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

"Would you just look under the bed?"

Nick ignored the CSI's question. Just like he had been doing for some time now.

"Nicky, I've been doing this a lot longer than you. I'm telling you check under the bed."

In a whisper Nick growled, "I will get to it. Shut. Up!"

The CSI was quiet for a while, long enough for Nick to finish going over the couch with a UV flashlight. There was no blood spatter on the couch that indicated the man hadn't been killed on it. All the blood had run from his body and soaked the cushions, creating a partial silhouette of the man's body. He had been placed on the couch after his heart had stopped pumping blood, allowing any blood that hadn't coagulated to flow off of him.

Nick glanced up when Riley walked in.

"Ready to take the couch out?"

"Yeah."

Nick stood and put his light down in his kit. The other CSI's shoe was next to his kit. He usually waited there, critiquing, criticizing, and offering unwelcome advice. Sometimes he would get in Nick's way, as if he wanted to keep Nick from doing his job.

"Having a thought?" Riley asked

Nick turned away from his kit, looking up at her. "What?"

"You're staring at that kit awfully hard, like you're having a thought." She smiled, flushing a little as she added, "Since you've come back, you've developed this new habit. You get this thousand-yard stare when you're having a thought, like you're not even here. It's like your brain hasn't quite figured out how to work things out like it used to."

"Uh-oh. That can't be good, Nicky," the other CSI chided.

Nick ignored them both. "We should look under the couch before we move it."

She sat her kit down, donned gloves, and got down on her stomach. Nick laid down on the other side and the two probed the darkness underneath with their flashlights. And found stacks of cocaine.

"So… I'm thinking he was either supposed to deliver or sell, and whoops! Forgot," came Riley's commentary from the other side of the couch.

"Wow. She's observant, isn't she?" the other CSI snickered.

"Or something," Nick said. "Let's bag it before we move the couch."

He and Riley stood up at the same time.

"Now check the vents," the other CSI said. "Bet he stashed stolen cash there."

"Shut up," Nick whispered between gritted teeth.

Riley turned. "I beg your pardon?"

"What?" Nick asked back.

"Did you just tell me to shut up?"

"No."

"I heard you say shut up."

"It was shut up like wow." Nick smiled, hoping it would help sell his lie.

"Busted!" the other CSI whispered in his ear.

She stared at him and Nick held it, determined to stick to his lie. Something he was becoming better and better at, to his dismay.

"What's so _wow_ about finding cocaine under a couch? I'm sure you've seen it before."

"There's a lot."

"There's six bricks. You're telling me that's the most you've ever found before? Really?"

The other CSI whispered to Nick, "She's no fool, man. Just tell her the truth. Come on. You and I both know we gotta tell someone. I trust her. Why don't you? After all, her parents are psychologists. Maybe she could shed some light on this whole crazy mess."

Nick sighed. "I was talking to myself. I was just trying to sort out all the evidence and it just sort of came out. I'm sorry. I wasn't telling you to shut up."

"Are you sure you were cleared to come back to work?" she asked. "You keep acting… Catherine told us your doc said you might act strange, that you might do things a little different, but, Nick..."

"I was cleared."

"I mean, with being nearly beat to death, but Nick—"

"Riley, I'm fine."

"You're sure you didn't lie on your paperwork or something?"

"You do know I'm the assistant supervisor, right?"

Riley started to get angry. "Yeah. I do. And you wouldn't be the first cop to cover up that he is not mentally stable enough to be on the job!"

"Are you trying to make a point or just piss me off?"

"I don't recall you ever talking to yourself before and now you seem to do it regularly. And most times you sound like you're talking to someone that isn't even in the room. So what exactly do you expect me to think?"

"You tell me. You seem to have all the answers," Nick snarled.

"Nick…" She sighed, shaking her head. "You know what? Never mind. We need bags for the coke. Do you want to get them or should I?"

"Go ahead. We'll wait," the CSI told her.

Nick just nodded. "I'll wait."

He waited for her to leave before spinning around to face the other CSI. Warrick grinned.

"SHUT UP!" Nick hissed as quiet as he could but still getting the meaning across. "You are not real. You're a hallucination. And if anyone knows I'm seeing a dead man every waking hour, I will _lose my job_. Go. Away!"

"I can't."

"Yes you can. It's easy. You just disappear and never come back."

"You won't let me."

Nick closed his eyes tight. He was arguing with a hallucination that was right. He _was_ the reason the hallucination wouldn't leave, but he didn't know why. The hallucination's presence was having a drastic affect on every aspect of his life. He was afraid to be around people, that someone would find out he had lost his mind and lock him up. He believed if Ecklie got wind that he was seeing a dead man he would fire Nick personally, or pressure Catherine into it. He didn't know how Catherine would handle it, but he didn't want to take the chance and find out.

Nick opened his eyes. "I need you to leave. I have to finish this crime scene without you interrupting me."

"And go where?" Warrick asked.

"I don't care! Anywhere!"

Warrick leaned in. "You need me here. If you didn't, I wouldn't be here."

Nick wanted to argue, but how could he argue with a logical hallucination?

He clenched his teeth. "At least stop talking."

"Can't promise anything."

Nick turned and found Greg standing in the door with paper bags in hand, and staring at him.

"Nick, you're busted!" Warrick laughed.

Nick really didn't need his hallucination to tell him that.

Rather than trying to talk his way out of being caught talking to a dead man, Nick dropped to his knees and started pulling out the bricks of cocaine out from under the couch. Greg walked around, opened a bag, and took them as Nick handed them to him. The tension between them felt more like Greg had walked in on Nick having sex in the crime scene. He didn't speak. Nick noticed he twisted his hand just so he wouldn't have to touch Nick. As soon as the bricks were collected, Greg bolted without a word or even asking if he should.

Nick considered mentioning how much it hurt to see his friend so distant, but he decided it was better to let it go. Greg might interpret him saying anything as a sign he could ask about what he'd just seen – and Nick knew he wouldn't be able to lie to him.

#

Catherine was focused on researching the bugs she'd found on her corpse. She really wished Grissom was here to just give her the answer out of hand, but he wasn't, and she had to work for the answer now. She heard someone clear their throat and looked up. Riley was standing in the doorway, hands held in front of her.

"Hi," Catherine said.

"Hi. I was wondering… Do you have a moment?"

Catherine nodded. Riley walked in and had just sat down when Greg showed up at her door.

"Oh. Uhm, when you get a chance, I need to talk to you, Catherine," he told her.

"Sure."

"About Nick?" Riley quietly asked.

They both looked at her. Riley was staring at her hands. Her cheeks were lightly flushed. Catherine looked up when Greg shut the door. He sat down in the open chair. He and Riley were both silent, perhaps waiting for the other to start the conversation. Catherine sighed. She would have to start it. She leaned forward on her desk.

"How long has he been talking to his invisible friend, guys?"

The two looked up, surprised by the question.

"You know about it?" Riley asked.

"I've had other concerned people tell me. But you two work closely with him. So tell me what you've seen and heard."

"Are you going to fire him? I mean… I don't know that this really means he needs to be fired. He's just… Confused or something." She could hear how deeply concerned Greg was.

"I couldn't discuss it with you even if the answer was no."

Greg stared at her a moment, and then seemed to understand she'd just answered his question. No. She wouldn't fire Nick. She would hold out as long as she possibly could, until she had no other choice. Greg started talking first…


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

Nick closed his locker door and was startled to find Catherine standing behind it. He smiled at her, and she returned it, but he could tell her heart wasn't in it.

"Nicky," she said.

"Catherine," he said.

Over his shoulder, Warrick told him, "Have you ever wanted to just mess up her hair?"

Nick had to swallow and cough to cover the laughter.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Good. You?"

"Worried."

"What about?"

"You."

Nick chuckled a couple times until he realized she wasn't laughing with him. She was serious.

"Me? Why are you worried about me?"

"I've had some people come to me and say you've been talking to yourself at crime scenes. And that led me to a few realizations. You trade the others for scenes you can work alone a lot. Since you came back, you've gone to every crime scene in your own vehicle. As a matter of fact, twice, when I told you to wait for me, you left anyway, and then claimed you hadn't heard me. I know you passed your pysch eval, but I'm beginning to wonder _how_ exactly you passed it. So… What's going on Nicky?"

"Nothing."

"Nicky." She used her best 'mother is about to ream your ass' tone.

"Ee. The woman is not happy. I think your ass is about to get _thinner_," was the best Warrick could give him.

"I'm fine, Catherine. I'm just… Different now. But the old brain's fine. I'm okay."

"You're going to have to explain that and well, because I don't know what _different_ means."

Nick smiled to cover how scared he really was. He didn't want Catherine to find out he was crazy. He really didn't know what she would do, but he didn't want to be fired.

"My neurologist said I might see changes in habits, personality, because my brain had to rewire itself just to survive. You were there. Remember that?" He waited until she nodded to continue. "Before, you never knew about the entire conversations I had with myself in my head, because they were in my head. Now... I can't seem to do that anymore. I have to talk it out now. And that's one thing in a long list of things that have changed. I mean, I used to put the left then right leg in my pants, and that's reversed. I write with my left hand instead of my right all of a sudden. I can't stand the taste of coffee anymore unless I load it down with sugar and peanut butter makes me nauseous now. I'm sorry it's bothering everyone, but I didn't go out and say, hey, why don't you bash my head in so everyone can be bothered by the changes my re-wired brain has made!"

"Wow! Talk about load of crap!" Warrick said as he moved around to watch them both. "If she buys that you'll be the luckiest man on the planet!"

Nick ignored him.

"I'm not talking about different taste preferences or how you dress or how you write, Nick. You are talking to yourself like there's someone you're talking to, and that isn't bothering people, or me. It's worrying us."

"Same difference, isn't it? And what do you want me to say? I can't go back to the old me. That person doesn't exist anymore."

"I'll say," Warrick jabbed. "That person would never have _lied_ to Catherine's face. Nick, just _tell_ her. Tell her now. Tell her the truth."

The way Catherine hesitated it was as though she'd heard Warrick and was waiting for the truth. Nick's mind began fantasizing about the conversation until he yanked his focus back on Catherine. He couldn't allow his mind to wander, that's when he responded to the hallucination of Warrick without realizing it. That's when he exposed himself the most.

"I'm working with you tonight. We have a call so meet me outside in ten minutes. And if you leave without me, you're suspended without pay for a month."

Catherine turned and walked out. Nick waited until she was out of sight to turned and gently beat his head on the door of a locker.

"I am so screwed," Nick whispered.

"I dunno about you, Nick. You've been lying about things a lot lately. The Doc said you'd see changes but—"

"Is there any way to _kill_ a hallucination?"

"Don't joke about that."

As Nick turned he snarled, "Who said I was joking?"

Warrick followed him into the hall, passing through people as they walked by. "That's cold. Real cold, Nick."

Nick bit his tongue to keep from lashing back at Warrick.

#

Nick moved slowly over the bedroom in search of evidence.

"What a waste." Warrick said. "She's a real beauty, isn't she?"

Nick glanced at the woman on the bed. Before this she had been beautiful. There were several pictures around her small bungalow that reflected a happy brunette with lots of friends. And at least one enemy who had tied her to the bed, raped her, and then stabbed her to death.

He spotted something behind the dresser and crouched down, using his flashlight to probe the darkness. He was aware of Warrick crouching down next to him. Had he been real, Nick would have felt his body heat too. Instead, he just sensed his presence.

"I just love having a ghost destroy my life. Just awesome. Go back to happy land or wherever, will ya?" Nick whispered.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Warrick hissed.

Nick shined his flashlight into Warrick's eyes. If those eyes had actually been there, Warrick have reacted, shield his eyes or closed them. The light didn't even reflect off his eyes, because there was nothing there to reflect off. But Nick didn't notice any of it.

"Why don't you go over to the body and tell me something I don't know?"

"You need my help here."

Nick stood, facing him. "No. I don't."

Behind Nick, the assistant coroner David came into the room, and almost started talking. He stopped when he noticed Nick was having a conversation with a torch light.

"Just get… it. Whatever it is," Warrick told Nick.

"Not until you leave me alone. Go."

"No."

"I don't need your help here, man. Leave."

David darted out of the room, still unseen by Nick.

"You know I can't leave."

"You can go look over the body. Since you're not even real, you can't contaminate it," Nick pointed out.

"See how helpful I can be?"

"I _do not _need your help!" Nick snarled through gritted teeth.

"Really? Because there's evidence on the end table you walked right past."

"I saw it."

"Really?"

Catherine walked into the doorway, watching Nick. She shooed someone in the hall off.

"Yes, I saw it. I had to have seen it. Or else you wouldn't have. Since you're not even here, that's how this works."

Warrick laughed. "You're catching on quick, aren't you?"

Catherine crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. She stared at the floor, listening to Nick's conversation with someone she couldn't see or hear.

"You aren't helping me, you know. You're hindering. What is with you tonight? You have been really annoying tonight. More than normal. Why?"

Warrick leaned in. "Because you lied to Catherine and it's you that has the problem, and you know that. You're afraid she's going to see right through your lie. Maybe you should start looking over your shoulder more."

Nick did just that, and then slowly turned to face Catherine. He was speechless, and so was Warrick. Perhaps it was the fact he knew he was caught or that strange, betrayed look on her face he'd only seen her give her late father or ex-husband. Whichever it was, Nick knew there was no lie that could get him out of this. His hand hadn't just been caught in the cookie jar, the trap she had carefully laid out had it in a firm hold.

"I'm not sure, Nick..." Catherine started. She stood up, looking down the hall. Was she looking at someone? Men in with a straightjacket maybe? "I'm not sure if I should be angry that you lied to me, or worried that you're talking to someone who isn't even here." Catherine paused to push her fingers against her lips for a minute, perhaps stifle a soft sob or steady frayed nerves. "And you are, aren't you?"

Nick didn't admit to anything. This is where he would have called for a uniform to arrest his suspect and take them in for a psych evaluation. Warrick and he had been in sync when he'd passed it the first time because neither of them trusted the workman's comp psychiatrist. They were both harboring the fear she'd turn out like the last one, out to get him in some elaborate, deviant trap. But since then Warrick's ghost had become more and more a nuisance, interfering and pushy. There was no way he could have gotten through the two-month evaluation with Warrick now. So Nick kept silent.

"Leave," Catherine ordered, looking at Nick. "Go home, go for a drive, whatever you need. Because when you come back to work tonight, we're going to have to figure something out, Nick. You are not mentally capable of working a crime scene in this condition."

"I do just fine, Catherine. I haven't—"

"That wasn't a suggestion, Nick. I need you to leave. Now."

"Catherine, I—"

"NOW!" Catherine barked, which brought on the tears. Softer she added, "Go. Now. Before I have to report this. I need to know what you're going to do about this when you come to work tonight or… Or I'll have to let you go."

"Oh shit," Warrick whispered. "You really hurt her, Nicky. That's not anger, that's hurt there."

Nick walked toward his kit, reaching for it.

"Go. Now. I'll get the kit."

Nick looked up at her. She was staring at the floor, tightly hugging herself. He really had hurt her with his lie. Nick walked past her, thinking of all the things he wanted to say to her, but knew better than to try. The 500-foot walk to his Denali was long and seemed to take years. He had to pass David, who was trying very hard to pretend to be busy, and two officers who knew something had just happened inside but were wise enough not to ask.

Nick slowly climbed into his Denali and started it. He felt them coming. They were burning his eyes but he had to hold it together. At least until there was no one to see.

Nick slipped it into drive and pulled away from the scene. He reached the stop sign and gasped a shaky sob, and then the tears were on him.

"Hey, Nick, it's—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, ASSHOLE!" Nick screamed at Warrick.

Then he slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The tires squealed until they caught traction and sent him flying around the corner, almost into an oncoming car. Nick pulled it back, focused on his destination. There was only one person that could help him and he had to make it to that person before he completely lost his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Greta Kirsch smiled, watching her patient leave. She turned her eyes to the notepad on her lap, finishing up her notes. She looked up when someone knocked softly on her open door. Her receptionist, Angie, was standing in the door.

"Nick Stokes is here, Greta. He's really upset and is asking to see you. Begging, really. You have an opening right now, I checked."

Greta looked at her watch. She had somewhere to be. She was tempted to turn him away, but Nick had never shown up upset or asking to see her. He always came on their scheduled every other Thursday appointment, chatted with Angie while he waited, and was usually doing well. Or he had been until he had been attacked, but she hadn't seen him since the incident. She'd watched it unravel on the news, knew he'd been in a coma for a short time, and then without any more drama to add to the story, the story disappeared from public interest. Months has passed since she'd last had a session with Nick, and she had hoped he was doing well – but showing up begging to see her was an indication she should have taken the initiative to check on the usually carefree Southerner.

Greta nodded her head. "He can come in."

Angie left and Nick came in, closing the door behind him. He walked to the chair across from her, falling into it. Right away she was worried about him. Dark circles were under his eyes from lack of sleep. His hands couldn't stay still. He looked stressed and edgy as he looked everywhere but at her. Something was eating at his normally stable mind. Something that had him acting like her patients with psychotic conditions.

"Good afternoon Nick," she said.

He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor.

"I… uhm…" He broke down into tears.

Greta got a Kleenex box and handed it to him. She sat down and waited. It had taken her and Nick two years for him to feel comfortable enough to cry in front of her, but it was still rare for him to do it. She waited for him to get a grip on his emotions. Seconds turned into twenty minutes before he was able to.

Suddenly he turned his head and snarled at an empty chair, "SHUT UP! I'll talk when I'm ready!"

He began shaking as he turned ashamed eyes to look at her. She realized that Nick hadn't come into the room alone. Some personal demon had followed him in.

"Tell me about our guest," she said, motioning to the chair. "Starting with when he appeared, Nick."

Nick blew his nose and wiped tears away. "I came around after she'd beat me up with a crowbar."

"She… She who?"

"You heard what happened to me on the news, didn't you? Everyone else in Las Vegas has."

"Yes. She is one of the people that hurt you?"

"Yes. Shania."

"Okay. So she beat you unconscious, I assume?"

"Yeah. She was trying to bash my head in."

"Go on."

"I came around and he was there. He encouraged me to unlock the handcuffs and walk to help. I was grateful he was there then, but now…"

"Who, Nick? Who helped you?"

"Warrick."

Greta took a moment to fully grasp what she was dealing with. She had a handful of patients she didn't worry about. They were down to earth, grounded. They were good people with solid pasts. Nick was among them. But now he was seeing and hearing a dead co-worker… It worried her, but more because Nick clearly didn't understand what was happening to him.

"Can you wait here a moment?" Greta asked.

Nick nodded.

She got up and walked out into the receptionist area. She grabbed a notepad and jotted a number down, then handed it to Angie.

"Call this number. Cancel my appointment. I'm going to be busy for a while."

"Is he going to be okay?" the woman asked.

Greta smiled. "I hope so." Then she returned to the room and settled back into her chair.

"Is Warrick still here?"

Nick nodded.

"You know, we never did talk a lot about him. How close were you and him?"

"Good friends."

"You once said he was at the department before you were hired. Did you look up to him?"

"Yeah. He trained me."

"You considered him a knowledgeable person? Someone you could rely on?"

"Yes."

"Did he encourage you when things were tough? When you didn't think you could do something or continue?"

Nick nodded. "Why are you asking me all this?"

"It seems you considered your friend a mentor and looked up to him. Is that an accurate depiction of your friendship?"

"Yes."

"Have you thought about him since his death?"

"A lot. Why?"

"Humans tend to develop additional personalities when they can't cope with a situation or they need someone to listen and can't find anyone. You were handcuffed and dying; you needed help, so your mind called on the one person that you thought could help you. Warrick."

"I have a split personality?"

"I think you just have a wounded mind that is trying to repair itself."

Nick shook his head. "No. I went to the neurologist again today and asked him to do another scan. The cracks are almost healed, no swelling or bleeding in my brain. There's no physical reason I should be having this."

"I didn't say physical wounds, did I?"

Nick stared at her.

"This Greta is pretty smart, Nicky," Warrick said.

Nick looked at him. "How would you know? You just met her."

Warrick smiled. "No I haven't. I've always been here."

Nick closed his eyes, telling Greta, "I just want him to go away. This… hurts."

Greta didn't speak until Nick looked at her. She nodded. "You're forced to remember Warrick?"

Nick nodded.

"I could prescribe something, I suppose, but the healthier way to handle this is to deal with it. This Warrick you see isn't real. He's a part of you that's just manifested into someone you feel you need for some reason. You are the only person that can make him go away, but first you have to figure out why you keep him around."

"Greta, I've issued arrest warrants for people like this. They're ranting and paranoid and—"

"Do you feel paranoid?"

Nick didn't answer right away. He slowly sank back into his chair. Greta waited, knowing the answer was 'yes' now.

"I'm afraid to work alone anymore, but I've forced myself to take the cases alone because I am scared. I'm afraid to go into dark places. Warrick encourages me when I get afraid, tells me not every place has a Shania or Daniel or Blaine or Walters waiting in it." Nick started crying again. "I love my job. I love what I do, but… I'm scared all the time now. After I was buried alive I got spooked every so often. But I'd just ask the officer on the scene to stay close by or go outside and I was fine. But… This last time an officer _was_ close by. He was only a few feet behind me. And it didn't do any good. It didn't matter!"

Greta nodded. "It sounds like part of Warrick's duty is to help you feel safe now that you can't do it for yourself."

Nick nodded. "I guess so."

"Have you considered moving to the day shift? So you aren't working at night?"

"I'd thought about it, but the day shift supervisor and I get along like oil and water. I could go to swings, but that would still put me on some shifts at night."

"So you're saying you feel like you must either confront these fears, or quit."

Nick looked up at her. "I can't quit."

"Why?"

Nick hesitated. "I have bills to pay. A mortgage and car payment. I can't just quit."

Warrick got up and moved next to Nick. Nick looked up at him.

"Now tell her the real reason, Nick."

Greta glanced where Nick was looking. "What is he telling you, Nick?"

Nick looked away. Quietly he told her, "I don't want to quit because I love my job."

"Warrick wanted you to say that?"

Nick nodded.

"Is it true? Do you love your job?"

"When I started working this job, I had never been happier." Nick looked up at her. "I can't see myself doing anything different. But if they find out I'm crazy, I'll lose my job and no CSI department in the country will hire me."

Greta leaned forward and word for word told Nick the same thing Warrick said, "You are not crazy."

Nick stared at her. He looked up at Warrick. He looked back at her.

"How can you be sure?" he asked them.

"Because crazy people can't tell they're talking to a dead person. You can," Warrick told him.

Greta's answer was much more logical. "Because you have an idea what's happening to you and you still have a firm grip on reality."

"I don't know what to do about work."

"You told me you trusted your supervisor… Was it Cathy?"

"Catherine."

"Do you trust her?"

Nick nodded.

"Maybe you should tell her about your friend, here." Greta motioned to the space next to Nick. "You don't have to go into details, just tell her that you have a friend and that you and I are working on convincing him to leave. And then share your fears with her. Perhaps she can help you avoid those situations for a while until you feel more confident you can deal with them. But the most important reason is because I think Warrick is here because you don't feel you have anyone to talk to. You need someone that you can call day or night, and who doesn't cost you a hundred and twenty-five an hour."

Nick smiled at the end joke and Greta reflected it.

"Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Good. Do you want me to prescribe you something?"

"No. We'll… Sort this out without drugs."

She nodded. "Okay. If you change your mind, just tell me. Do you feel better than when you came in?"

He nodded. "If he would just shut up, I'd feel even better." Nick pointed over his shoulder.

"Well, so far he seems to be just looking out for you, so don't give him too hard of a time. After all, you're only picking on yourself when you pick on him. Okay?"

Nick nodded.

"Do you want to talk about what happened in the tunnels, Nick?"

Nick hesitated. He was trying to forget about the horrific event. But Warrick was really the only person he'd talk to about it. Nick looked up at her, and began talking…

#

Warrick followed Nick into the reception area, standing close while Nick scheduled his appointments. Angie wrote them on a card and handed them to him with a smile.

"See you Tuesday, Nick."

He nodded.

"She has the hots for you," Warrick said as they left.

Nick ignored him. They got into his Escalade and he pulled onto the street. Warrick sat in the passenger seat, staring at him.

"What?" Nick finally asked.

"You're not going to tell Catherine, are you?"

"I don't know."

"You should tell her. She was a good friend to me."

"I think you should just sit there and watch the world go by. I really don't want to talk to you."

"I'm starving."

"You're a hallucination. You can't be starving."

Nick's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten for nearly twenty-four hours – not by choice. Work had kept him busy all night. By the time he got off, it was four hours before he had to be in for the hospital scans and he couldn't eat. And then he'd driven straight to Greta's office.

"Fine. _You're_ starving," Warrick said.

Nick smiled, and then laughed. He glanced at Warrick, who reflected his smile. Human and hallucination fell silent, watching Las Vegas as they drove through it, giving the human time to figure out what to do next.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Nick had asked Catherine and Greg to come, but Greg had invited Riley. Nick couldn't be upset, Greg didn't know why Nick wanted them to have breakfast and he couldn't ask her to leave when she showed up with Greg. Not only because it would have been rude, but she was already suspicious about his behavior; excluding her from breakfast would have only given her more reason to be suspicious.

He had been silent through the entire meal, ignoring Warrick's interjections and encouragement to participate in the conversation. The other three CSI didn't notice he wasn't talking. They were rambling on about a six car pileup the three had been working. Nick hadn't been on that case. He'd stayed in the lab all night working on evidence for his other cases and secretly grateful that he didn't have to go out into the night.

Riley glanced at her watch and announced, "I gotta run. I'll see everyone tonight."

They waved as she hurried off. Nick glanced at Warrick as he took her seat and looked over her unfinished plate.

"Maybe we should steal this bacon. Don't want to waste perfectly good bacon." He looked at Nick's plate, and then met Nick's eyes. "Course, you're going waste all of yours. You haven't even touched it."

"Nick," Catherine's voice said, grabbing Nick's attention.

He looked at her. She had a look on her face that spoke volumes of her frustration with him.

"Aren't you eating?" she asked, motioning at his full plate.

Nick looked down at it. He'd been hungry right up until the moment they'd walked through the door, then lost his appetite completely. In reality, he was scared to death. Maybe not as scared as when he'd had a gun in his face, or buried alive, or beat within an inch of his life, but it was holding in close on the backstretch.

"I've been seeing a hallucination since I came to in the tunnels," Nick blurted.

He waited, giving Greg and Catherine time to absorb what he'd just told them.

"We knew. Sort of," Greg admitted. "Everyone in the lab's been whispering about it, but… Who are you seeing?"

"You don't want to know. You'd _really_ think I was crazy then."

"I never said I thought you were crazy," Greg protested.

"No, but you would. Just a guy. I try to ignore him, but it's really hard because he's always there. I saw my therapist this morning and she said if you need to talk to her, Catherine, call her." Nick fished Greta's card from a pocket and slid it across the table to Catherine. "I'm trying really hard to deal with this and I'm sorry I've been acting so weird. I'm just trying to cope with him and it's difficult knowing if I'm doing the right thing or not. But I'm not crazy. Or so Greta keeps telling me. And him… Too." Nick thought about that for a minute and then softly added, "That makes me sound crazy."

Nick stared at his plate in the silence that followed.

"No. I don't think it does," Greg assured him. There was a kindness in his voice. A friend that, if he were lying, Nick would never know.

"It's Warrick, isn't it?" Catherine asked.

Nick looked up at her, surprised that she'd guessed right. Greg was surprised by the question, but then looked questionably at Nick.

"When you came out of the coma, you were still pretty out of it," she explained. "You carried on entire conversations with Warrick as if he was right there talking to you. Your doctor told me that it was possible for you to have an auditory and visual hallucination either from the injury or the trauma, or both. He warned me to expect anything at any time, even years from now. So when people began telling me you were having conversations with yourself, I put two and two together."

Nervous, Nick rubbed his finger over his lips. "I'm not crazy," he insisted. "I keep being told I'm not. I wish I felt that."

"Geeze, Nick," Greg said.

"I'm not crazy, Greg, I—"

"You think that someone can go through everything you have and not have something snap in their head? Do you really think that's possible?"

"I dunno."

"Has Greg gotten smarter?" Warrick joked.

Nick shot him a glare.

"He's here now?" Catherine asked.

"He's always here," Nick hissed at his hallucination. "He won't leave."

"Not until you're ready to let me," Warrick reminded him.

"He's the one that found the coke under the couch, isn't he? In that house a couple days ago?" Greg asked. "And the gun in the storm drain and the knife buried under the potted plant."

"No. Greta says this is just an extension of me, that it's just an image of Warrick, but that I'm the one doing all the work. I can't let myself believe he's doing anything or..."

"We could really lose you to him?" Catherine asked.

Nick nodded.

Greg reached over and patted Nick's shoulder. "No wonder you've been so jittery."

Nick looked at him.

Greg smiled. "It's okay. I won't tell."

"As long as you don't give me a reason to tell Ecklie, Nick, I'm not going to say anything either," Catherine told him.

"You're both okay with this?"

"Yeah. Strange that it's Warrick, but yeah, I think we're both okay with this."

"I just have to figure out what to do about everyone else. I know I've been acting weird around them and they've got to be wondering. I know Riley is really suspicious."

"We can talk our way out of that, Nick," Greg started. "See, you had brain damage, ya know, and you used to internalize all this process, but since the injury, you have to verbalize all those processes now. Sort of like retraining yourself. Everyone'd buy it, too. After all, Hodges noticed that you've become ambidextrous and Archie says he noticed that when you do landscape photos, you turn the camera left instead of right now. So this is just another little subtle change in the Nick Stokes we all know and love. Simple as that."

Greg's cover story for the change made Nick smile. It might just work.

"Can you tell us why Greta thinks you have this hallucination?" Catherine asked.

Nick leaned on the table. "I'm sort of paranoid about going into dark places now, which is 90% of my job. Don't worry, Catherine, I'll still do my job. Just might be a little slower, is all."

"That's all I ask. We'll get through this Nicky. The three of us have been through some rough times but we've pulled through, right?"

Nick nodded.

She leaned across the table, quietly asking, "Does it really look like Warrick?"

"Yes. Sounds like him too."

She sat back, shaking her head. "I guess choosing him made sense, but that's hard to wrap my head around. If it were me, I'd be out of my mind if I saw him all the time. I'm not quite over him being gone as it is."

"It is hard." Nick looked at her. His eyes were starting to water. "It's really hard. I would have chosen Santa Claus over this."

He glanced at Warrick when he suddenly put on a Santa Claus cap. Nick laughed a little.

"No?" Warrick asked, and then took it off.

Nick looked down. "I have some imagination, let me tell you."

"We've always known that, Nicky," Catherine said. "So, are you going to eat now? I paid for a perfectly good meal, you'd better eat it."

Nick didn't argue. He listened to her and Greg start arguing about a case they were working on.

Nick froze when Warrick leaned near him to whisper in his ear. "You trust the right people and soon I'll be just someone you saw in the hall once."

He looked at Warrick when he sat back and slouched in the chair. Warrick just smiled. Nick turned his attention away to his friends, deciding to focus on the living for a while.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

Nick looked up when the passenger door opened, staring at Greg. He slid his kit over, against the firewall between the seats, then opened the back and slid in a cooler and a larger kit. He shut the back door and climbed into the passenger seat. He pulled his seatbelt on, adjusted his jacket, and then sighed, looking out the front window. Then he noticed they weren't moving. He looked at Nick with a puzzled expression.

After a few minutes of staring at each other, Greg asked the obvious question, "What's wrong?"

"You're not Catherine," Nick pointedly said.

Greg smiled. "No. Luckily I'm not. That would be kind of freaky."

Nick looked out the windshield. He'd been working with Catherine for a month now. She'd adjusted to him and Warrick arguing at crime scenes and in the Denali. She had learned how to stop Nick and coax him into reality, and while the support never made Warrick vanish, it did shut him up most of the time.

Last week Catherine warned him that when he was least expecting it, she was sending him out with Greg. He'd expected some kind of warning, not finding out when he was sitting in the Denali and had two hours to get to a crime scene that was an hour and forty minutes away.

"Nick? Talk to me, man. What's going on upstairs?" Greg asked.

Nick reached over his shoulder and pulled his seat belt across, snapping it. He slid the gear into reverse and backed out of the parking spot.

"We need some music. Whatcha bring?" Nick asked.

Greg produced an iPod from his pocket and slipped it into the adapter in front of the radio. "Name your poison."

"Something loud. Dial up some P. Diddy," Warrick said as he leaned between the seats.

Almost under his breath Nick told him, "Warrick wants to listen to P. Diddy." Then he slipped the Denali into drive and headed out.

"I really don't care what some hyped up flight of fancy wants. What do you want?"

Nick stopped at the edge of the parking lot and looked at Greg. Greg stared back. He wasn't joking. He really didn't care what the hallucination said.

"He gets a little less funny every year, doesn't he?" Warrick asked.

"I'd like country tonight," Nick honestly answered.

Greg rolled his eyes. "Please tell me we aren't going to have to listen to some song about your mom getting drunk, the dog getting run over, and driving in the rain to get your girlfriend out of jail."

Nick and Warrick both laughed.

"I was thinking more along the lines of some badonkadonk and beer for my horses."

Greg nodded, making a selection. "Now you're talking."

As soon as _Honky Tonk Badonkadonk_ came on, Greg fell back against his seat and rolled his window down.

"When are we going to stop to eat?" Warrick asked, seconds before Nick's stomach rumbled.

Nick ignored his stomach and Warrick. So they both asked the question again.

It took two more times before Nick grew tired of it.

"I'm stopping for food," Nick informed Greg.

"Chicken. I want chicken," Greg replied. He waved to someone – Nick couldn't see who it was.

"I can't eat chicken and drive."

"I'll eat it. You drive."

"Oh he's just funny, isn't he?" Warrick asked.

Nick just laughed. Maybe working with Greg tonight wasn't such a bad thing.

#

Nick gently twirled the fingerprint brush over the edge of the window. Warrick leaned in.

"Are you getting sloppier?"

Nick drew his lips tight. He was trying to ignore him, to stay focused.

"I think you should use Dragon's Blood, man. That's pretty dark wood and—"

"Shoosh!" Nick barked.

Warrick chuckled, standing up.

"Still trying to tell yourself how to fingerprint?" Greg asked.

"Mm-hm."

"Are you right or wrong about it?"

Nick stood up straight, like someone had just poked him with a cattle prod. He turned, staring at Greg. He was sitting on the floor with a bag of pens, pencils, rulers and stencils, carefully mapping out the crime scene around

It took the two an hour of the circuit breaking continually tripping for them to realize that the asbestos wrapped copper wiring couldn't handle their computerized mapping equipment. Which meant the scene had to be manually mapped which Nick decided Greg should do it. He'd never had the pleasure of the hours spent measuring, re-measuring, mapping, measuring, erasing, measuring, cursing, measuring yet again, and hoping the end results wouldn't get thrown out of court for some millimeter miscalculation. Surprisingly, Greg didn't even argue. He just took the tools Nick had buried at the bottom of his kit after years of disuse and went to work.

"What?" Nick asked.

"Are you right or wrong? I mean..." Greg looked up at Nick. "You keep telling him that's not how you're going to do it and you know how to do that and if he doesn't shut up, you're going find a witch doctor and banish his ass. That last part just doesn't grow old, either. But, since Warrick is, well, you, you're basically questioning yourself. Right? So… Are you right about what you're arguing about or wrong?"

"Who is that, and what did he do with Greg?" Warrick asked.

"No kidding." Nick said.

"What?"

"Who are you and what have you done with Greg?"

Greg chuckled, looking back at the paper. "He's not real, Nick. You're arguing with your subconscious – at least that's what Greta told Catherine. But the real question is, is your subconscious wiser than you are?"

Nick looked down at the dusted windowsill. Greta had been telling him that for a month now. He realized he hadn't really heard her. Why did Greg saying it seem to sink in?

Warrick leaned against the wall with a smug smile on his face, but he didn't say anything. Not even when Nick put back the black powder and picked up the Dragon's Blood. He dabbed the brush in and started dusting the ledge. The florescent pink contrasted the prints hidden on the dark wood.

"Thanks, Greg," Nick said.

"Yep."

Nick lost track of time, not realizing Warrick went mute the rest of the night.

#

"Nick."

Nick started waking up. It came fast when something cold and wet was dropped down his shirt and slid across his back. It landed at the bottom of his shirt where it tucked into his jeans. Nick swung his hand back, trying to pull it out. An ice cube dropped into his hand followed by Greg laughing. Nick grinned, throwing the ice at him.

"Jerk!" Nick spat.

He turned, seeing Warrick sitting in the seats furthest backseat, watching the two with a smile. Greg glanced back too, but then leaned toward Nick, looking him in the eye.

"That is for letting me put sour milk in my coffee the other day. I warned you I'd pay you back!"

"I hate you."

"You wish."

Greg opened the driver side door and hopped out, then opened the back. Nick looked up at the police station as he stretched.

"When did I pass out?"

"About five seconds after we left. You snore, by the way."

"I know that."

Greg stopped moving behind Nick, so he looked back at him.

"You know, Nick, most people argue about that."

Nick grinned. "Are you saying I'm normal?"

"Ohhhh no. That would be a huge mistake to say that. Get the cooler."

"Who died and made you supervisor? That's my title."

"Not no more." Greg shut the door, saying loudly through the window. "Do my bidding, slave! Get the cooler. Besides, I have both kits and all the evidence bags. I can't carry any more in."

Nick laughed, climbing out. He grabbed the cooler and walked around. Greg hit the lock button on the car remote and they headed up the handicap ramp to the front door. They got to the elevator and stepped onto the car, crowding in with everything they had.

Warrick appeared in the corner opposite of Nick. Nick smiled suddenly, looking at Greg.

"You know… Tonight was a good night."

"We haven't even looked at the evidence. How can that be a good night?"

"That isn't what I meant."

Greg smiled. "It has been."

Nick nodded.

The doors opened and they hauled everything off to labs.

#

Catherine looked at Greg when he fell into step beside her. He kept his eyes straight ahead and, keeping silent, followed her as they walked through the halls. Catherine led him into her office and shut the door behind him. She turned, finding him leaning against the edge of her desk. He didn't look very happy, either.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Greg sighed, and with a shrug told her, "He can't go to court, Catherine. You weren't imagining things. He talks to him a lot, even in his sleep. If he's in a courtroom and for any reason lost his attention… He'd be found out on the spot. All his evidence would be tossed out." He looked up at her. "He's not going to be happy about being demoted."

"Better that than fired. It's impossible to find a job now. And we can't risk evidence being tossed out."

"Couldn't you just… Give him sabbatical or something?"

"He doesn't have the money for a four month sabbatical, Greg. I already asked about it. Besides, the only way to help him is to keep him working."

Greg looked down. "I feel horrible. Like I was spying or something tonight."

Catherine walked up and patted his shoulder. "You weren't spying, Greg. You were helping me determine if things are really as bad as I thought, or not. Now… We're going to have to figure out how to get him demoted without Ecklie ever knowing the truth and will keep him out of the courtroom."

Greg looked up with a grin. "I have an idea."


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

When the screaming erupted, everyone in the lab stopped and turned. In the middle of the hallway, Nick and Catherine were going at it, yelling about some evidence they disputed the outcome on. Nick was determined he was right, but so was Catherine.

The screaming brought several officers including Brass, and eventually Ecklie. They didn't see either of them; they were waiting for Greg's signal. Which came from a mirror that flashed across Nick's face. He took a swing at Catherine, purposely moving the air before her face, encouraging her to fall back several steps. That brought forward lab techs from all directions, and Ecklie. People pulled Nick away, and shielded Catherine.

"Take him to my office!" Ecklie bellowed.

And Nick was push-pulled away. Ecklie turned. Catherine had to work at keeping her startled, surprised look. After all, they had planned this. Unfortunately, Ecklie taking Nick away wasn't part of the great plan.

"Are you okay?" Ecklie asked.

"Yeah."

"I'll take care of this."

"Conrad, I'll take care of it. I'm his supervisor. It's my job."

Catherine started to walk by him but he grabbed her arm. "Why would he try to hit you?"

"He's been… Moody, since he came back."

"You cannot let this go unpunished."

"Unpunished? You want me to turn him over my knee?"

Conrad gave her a level look.

She smiled, pulling her arm away. "Fine. I could fire him if that's what you mean."

"You want to fire him?"

"Not really. But you seem to."

"I never said I wanted him fired."

"You want him punished. What does that mean?"

"I was thinking suspension."

"As strapped as we are? We can't do that. You know that."

"Then what would you suggest?"

She sighed, looking at the eyes around her. What would she suggest? Catherine looked up at Ecklie.

"I'll demote him. Put him back to CSI 1."

"Two."

"He tried to hit me. I think he needs to be at one and get some stress off his shoulders."

"Two."

"Okay. I'll go talk to him."

"No. I'll talk to him. Guy to guy."

She didn't respond. This was not part of the plan. Not even relatively close to it. She watched Ecklie walk around her before she looked back at Greg. He looked just as worried, but only shrugged. She looked down the hall, watching Ecklie's baldhead disappear. How were they going to get around this disaster?

#

Nick didn't look up when the lab techs – including Hodges – made a path to let Ecklie into his office. Nick kept his eyes on the floor, feeling balled up with frustration. Being drug into Ecklie's office was not part of the plan. He was supposed to be demoted to CSI 1 for behavior. A behavioral demotion meant that a CSI had to work with a partner, had to verify all their findings with a supervisor, and under no circumstances were allowed to be in a courtroom until they had passed their pysch evals. Which Catherine had planned on continuing to forget submitting the request for until someone finally got fed up and made her – say, Ecklie? That all went out the window now that he was involved, and Nick felt—

"We are so screwed," Warrick voiced Nick's repeating thought as he settled into the chair next to Nick.

Nick barely nodded – he had to consciously remind himself not to respond to his hallucination, especially not in the presence of Ecklie.

"Out," Ecklie ordered the lab techs, and shut the door behind them with a slight slam. He closed all the blinds before returning to his desk. Exhaling a long, loud breath, he started typing on his computer and not paying any attention to Nick.

Minutes passed.

Nick shifted in his chair.

When was the yelling going to start?

Minutes turned into a half hour. Nothing.

Warrick verbalized the thought that was pounding through Nick's mind. "What the hell is going on?"

There was a knock on the door. Ecklie glanced at it, but didn't call the person in. When the door started to open he sprung to his feet.

"This is just getting out of hand, Nick. You have nothing to say for yourself?" Ecklie demanded.

Nick and Warrick stared at him, bewildered by the question and comment. It literally came out of the blue. The two looked at a Sergeant standing in the doorway.

"What?" Ecklie snapped.

He glanced from one to the other, then the folder in his hand.

"It can wait," the officer said and then quickly shut the door and left.

Ecklie sat back down, resuming typing in silence. Nick slowly looked from the door to him.

"Maybe you should ask him what's going on," Warrick suggested.

Nick didn't. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Soda or water?" Ecklie asked.

When Nick didn't answer he looked up, clearly expecting an answer.

"N-No." Nick shook his head to make sure the answer stuck.

Ecklie reached into a mini refrigerator behind him and took out a bottle of water. He swallowed a few mouthfuls and then went back to typing.

"Just ask him," Warrick urged.

Nick cleared his throat. Ecklie kept typing. Nick shifted in his chair. Ecklie's typing didn't even slow.

"What is going on?" Nick finally blurted.

Ecklie glanced at him. "Hm?"

"What is going on? You had me drug in here and in the last forty-five minutes all you've asked is if I wanted something to drink. If you're saving up the yelling, could we just get it over with? I have work to get back to."

Ecklie sat up, holding Nick's stare. Nick braced for the onslaught of Conrad Ecklie arrogance.

"Did you really think I'd believe that show out there?" Ecklie motioned out of the office. "Nick Stokes has never struck a suspect, let alone a co-worker. You've gotten a little rough, put a few against walls, but you've never punched anyone."

Nick didn't respond. He was grateful that Warrick didn't either.

"Look, Nick, I've had several officers and a few lab techs – none of the graveyard – come to me because you have been behaving strangely. Several officers have reported hearing you talking to someone, but when they came into the room, there was no one but you. In particular was a rape homicide a few weeks ago that Catherine was at. She sent you out, they said you tore out of there and they didn't see you the rest of the night. I'm not that far from my CSI roots, Nick. Even I can follow the evidence."

"Did he ever have CSI roots?" Warrick grumbled

Nick didn't look away or admit to anything. He wondered how far Ecklie would go to lay his trap for Nick.

Ecklie sat back in his chair. "Actually, if this hadn't happened tonight, I would have done something. Maybe fired you, maybe not."

Nick was suspicious of that comment. It was strange to hear Ecklie side with a CSI in any circumstance.

"Maybe not?"

Ecklie shrugged. "You've had it rough the last eight months. You were nearly beat to death and were in a coma for a few months, so I empathize with your situation. Which is why I'm going to play along with this. For now. You and Catherine, and who knows who else, have obviously created a perfect reason to demote you, which will keep you out of the courtroom and means all of your work will be double checked. I also understand you're seeing a psychiatrist outside of work again. I'm willing to accept these terms to keep you employed. You're a good CSI, Nick, one of our best."

"Whoa. He put that together all by himself? Maybe there is a CSI somewhere in there after all." Warrick chuckled.

"How long is a while?" Nick asked.

"How long do you want it to be?"

"Six months. At least."

"Six months? Ecklie questioned.

"Hell no! Nick, don't you dare agree to that," Warrick ordered.

"No. Eight."

"Are you nuts?" Warrick asked Nick.

Ecklie leaned on his desk, staring Nick in the eyes. "Because it's going to require a lot of shuffling, and lying, I need to know what it is I'm lying and shuffling for. Tell me what's going on, Nick."

"This goes back to when I woke up in the tunnels."

Warrick stood, standing in front of Nick. Although to Nick's eyes he couldn't see through him, he knew the hallucination wasn't solid to Ecklie and continued staring at the same spot.

"Do not tell him anything about me, Nick. He won't understand," Warrick said.

"What about it?" Ecklie asked.

"I woke up and saw a hallucination of Warrick. He followed me out of those tunnels. Now he follows me everywhere. But I know it's just a hallucination, a creation of my mind as I'm working through everything. The therapist I'm seeing now, I've been going to her for a few years, and she's helping me figure out how to make him leave for good, or at least get me to where I can ignore him."

Warrick walked away, putting his fingers into his hair as if he were about to tear his head off. "YOU ARE NUTS!"

"You see him all the time?"

"Yes."

Ecklie nodded, looking at the notepad under his hands. Warrick charged up to the desk, slamming his hands on the wood. Nick started a little at the sound only he heard. Ecklie didn't notice.

"Don't you dare do something stupid, you bald ass mother fu—"

Ecklie looked up at him. "I believe you and Catherine are handling this in the best way, so I'll stay out of this. For now."

Nick almost smiled. "Okay."

"Now, we have a no violence in the workplace policy that says I have to fire or suspend you. If we want this to look real, I'm going to have to suspend you for one month. This means there'll be another psych eval before you come back to work. Do you think you can breeze through another one again?"

Nick solemnly nodded.

"Thank you for being honest with me. I'll do everything I can to help protect you."

Nick smiled. "Thank you, Conrad."

He nodded. "Welcome. Enjoy your time off. See you in six days."

Nick stood. He walked up to the desk, holding out his hand. Ecklie reached up and they shook hands. Ecklie smiled.

"Just because I'm the Under Sheriff doesn't mean I'm that far from the Wall Crew, Nick."

"So I'm not a good CSI?"

"You are, but Hodges told me one day, 'Being a member of Las Vegas PD's super secret club makes us close friends.' Not sure I'd want to consider Hodges a close friend, but you I do."

Nick nodded and left. He didn't care that people stared at him as he walked past, and it was hard not to smile. He didn't go to Catherine's office – they'd planned that. To make it real they were going to have to avoid each other at work for a little while, or so they'd planned. But tonight, when she and Greg came over for dinner, he knew they could change that. They were going to be just as stunned by Ecklie helping him as he was.

Nick stopped short and turned a full circle. Warrick was nowhere in sight. As a matter of fact, he had vanished shortly after leaning on the desk in Ecklie's office. Nick had been so focused on Ecklie, on the rare humanistic side he was exposing, that he hadn't even noticed.

Nick slowly continued his trip to the locker room. He knew it wasn't that easy to make Warrick vanish, but he felt that soon Warrick would return to his rightful place – a friend who made his mark on Nick's life, who he'd had to bury, and whose face time would eventually erase.


End file.
